Boris

While Japanese noise rockers Boris have built their international popularity through continent-sized tours, their actual voices are seldom heard over the waves of distortion blaring out their amplifiers. Add a language barrier and to many Westerners their favorite drone rockers remain shrouded in mystery. To find out what's behind that smoke machine, drummer extraordinaire and band spokesman Atsuo sat down with us to talk about the two versions of their new album, Smile, their identity inside and outside of Japan, setting the record straight on that guy's ear, their love-destroy relationship with Tokyo, and some of the more obscure yet finer points of Japanese manga comics.

Pitchfork: This is your first, non-collaborative album for the first time in a while...

Atsuo: Yeah, it just feels good to actually call it a proper Boris album [with capital letters] again.

Pitchfork: How does the feeling compare to when Pink was released?

A: It definitely feels different but kind of the same. Coming off of Pink, we had a lot of shows over some long tours that just completely tired us out. Even fitting in recording sessions between tour dates left us in pieces, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. We saw it as something going towards our future. And now, we're feeling more comfortable but it looks like we're going to have to expect more of the same with the new record and do it all over.

Pitchfork: So was there a starting point from where Smile coalesced?

A: Well, we never have a set starting point for an album. In between our shows and tour dates, we decide on and set up dates to record and just get in the studio. We have a deadline for our albums, because we have to record and mix and master it all, but we never have a distinct starting point, never.

Pitchfork: So how long would you say Smile took?

A: Well the production started right around the time after Pink was released and kept on during the release of the Rainbow album with Kurihara. Now that I think about it, it's taken like two years to finish this record but it's all a bit mixed up how it came together.

Pitchfork: What came first?

A: First we recorded "Statement" and "No Ones Grieve" which at that time, ended up as an instrumental mix we released with Conspiracy. We had the original idea for "Statement" when we were still recording Pink, but we couldn't fit it in with the album-- we couldn't mature it enough. For this record, we could finish it and were happy with the final version.

Pitchfork: How would you say Boris approached the new record?

A: In terms of the recording and mixing environment, our approach was pretty much the same as our previous efforts. I did the recording and the mixing. It wasn't just us, we had a couple of guests, like Stephen [O'Malley] from Sunn O))) and Michio Kurihara on guitar along with Ai Aso, who co-wrote "You Were Holding an Umbrella". And for the Japanese version of the album, we just handed over a copy of the recordings to You Ishihara [the Stars, Ex-White Heaven], and he produced and mixed while we were getting through our last tour dates. Looking back, it really just came down to what we were feeling like doing [at the time]. What we jam can be so different within a short time span. I guess I get tired of things really fast, and so we end up having to do things really fast.

Pitchfork: Did that make it hard to find inspiration for the album?

A: Well, we never look for inspiration so to speak. I mean, we love being busy with touring and playing shows and that in itself is inspiring. We think it's amazing that we can create this one time experience with each and every audience but then with all the preparation that goes into touring, moving, flights, hour-long car rides, setting up the stage, it just exhausts the hell out of us and sometimes we just don't look forward to it, you know? That Pink phase was what is really reflected in the new songs.

Pitchfork: How would you say Smile is different from previous Boris records?

A: Well, in that madness that was Pink, we just got so tired of chasing some kind of cool, rock image. I felt like we were chasing something, it was like we wanted to be something greater. But after all that, we got and have been reflective. We actually had this vivid nostalgia for old Japanese glam rock from the 1980s and 90s and we started longing for that kind of music. I mean, it's fake, over-produced stuff so it's not that interesting, per se, but it's undeniable for us-- we grew up with that kind of rock and we were drawn to it again during the making of this record. We can't help but be into it; and we were just interested in crystallizing some of those aspects in our music for this record.

Pitchfork: Japanese glam rock? Like who?

A: Oh, just Japanese stuff from the 80s, it's too embarrassing to say. Next question! [laughs]

Pitchfork: Ok, but what do you mean by their "fakeness?"

A: Well that kind of fakeness or over production of those bands isn't necessarily a negative thing. Sometimes, fakeness can be good. I mean, I've been a vegan and have been eating that fake meat-- and it's a good kind of fake, you know? And sometimes fakeness is even better than the real thing. But for us, we were wearing ourselves out running around, chasing originality, that's what we were after and looking back at those fake bands was kind of like a mirror.

Pitchfork: And that's why you decided to make distinct versions of the record?

A: Yeah, for us it was natural. If you look at it musically, by having an album with a producer on one version and without one on the other version, there's a vague sense of which material is really original. I get a lot of complaints with the release of the two different versions, but it seemed unnatural for us to just have one version; two suited us better.

But then the Japanese version leaked on the internet, so now it's all mixed up. I don't even know what people have heard. Still, within the difference [between the two], I really think that there's a secret to what Boris is really about. That's what was going through our minds during the making of this record.

Pitchfork: Something along the lines of two different identities?

A: Well, we were really trying to shed our skin and lose ourselves in hopes of finding some kind of originality. And in a way, we're still looking for original material so that we can feel fresh. After Pink, we wanted to wipe the slate clean and start anew, but there is a limit to how much skin you can shed. By working with a producer we could go beyond the limit and produce something that wasn't typical Boris, something more original, beyond what we could do on our own.

Pitchfork: You've always produced your own records. How did you feel about just giving Ishihara the recordings?

A: Well, we like Ishihara. He gives the tracks this cold and quiet sound like his band, the Stars. In the studio, we come up with a different, like, hotter sound. We were curious and really looking forward to seeing what he would come up with and how different or similar it would be to our version.

Pitchfork: So you trusted him completely?

A: Yeah...before the last American tour, we worked on about half the songs with Ishihara, and then while we were touring, he mixed all the tracks into different versions . When we came back we just picked which versions we liked and put them on the record.

Pitchfork: But despite the two versions, were you looking for a particular sound?

A: Generally we just record and work with the recordings we get; making the best of it. So, we never really look for a "type of sound." But then again, the recording style for Boris is kind of different from more conventional styles, where you have an engineer or producer outside the room, listening and confirming the sound or whatever. Sometimes we just put the recorder in random places-- hang two mics from the ceiling and record from those, or set up mics around the drum set-- so we were experimenting with different sounds. Each time it's different so it's not a consistent style. Working off of incidental sounds or mistakes, we end up creating or discovering something new, and that's way more important than trying to get a certain sound.

Pitchfork: You have been a band for so long, what's gotten easier over the years?

A: Well it is easier to write songs now. Before we had this fixed view about recording and songwriting. Like, we used to think that musicians have this general process where musicians have to come up with songs, practice them, and then record them in the studio, in that order. But now that process has totally broken down for us and I don't even think of myself as a musician, or of us as a band, or even what we create as music.

Pitchfork: Everyone's been saying Smile is a really vocal album, did that affect the songwriting?

A: I get asked that all the time, but I don't know why that's so special. I guess it's something everyone notices. After we jammed and improvised instrumentally and refined the songs to a point where we were satisfied, we threw the vocals on top and recorded it again. And in those sessions, Takeshi just came up with a bunch of random melodies, you know, just from whistling or so. Some of the melodies were temporary and changed, but since it came afterwards, it didn't affect the format so much.

Pitchfork: So it wasn't something you necessarily focused on...

A: Well, I don't think it's any less important because it came at the end. It's more important if the vocal and the melody are singable because that affects how many people can sing along and connect with the songs. Not everyone can play guitar or bass, but everyone can sing and that physical sense is really important for these songs. Actually, including more vocals was important for us. It allows us to share our music with more people.

Pitchfork: Who wrote most of the lyrics?

A: Takeshi usually does takes care of it. We wrote some of the lyrics together, most of them in Japanese, but I don't even think of them as lyrics anymore, they're just words. A lot of the lyrics came from listening to the music we recorded, it really felt like we were designing words off the music.

Pitchfork: So how did you and Takeshi decide to include that ear story into "Floorshaker"?

A: [laughs]That song is an extension of "No Ones Grieve". It's kind of complicated but, when we finished the song, I had this vivid image of being in a desert in Texas and someone we knew was dancing in the distance but it was still vague as to who it was. But it was vivid and something that stayed with us. Separately, the image of finding this guy's ear on the floor was at the same time so vivid, we couldn't ignore it so we put it into the song. But recently I get asked this question a lot, and I'm asked whether the song is written to make up for the loss of his ear or whether it's an apology song. But it's not like that at all. We didn't write the song entirely for the guy; it was already written, and it's actually two different things, that were coincidentally related. It's just a coincidence and I hate it to be written, like, the other way around, I don't want it to be written like that, so let me set the record straight-- the guy lost an ear and we wrote a song separately [laughs]. But it's funny, I don't really know what to do. I thought it was over and done with, but now that everyone's written about it, it's gone beyond a beautiful story, it's more like a surreal comedy people can't believe now [laughs].

Pitchfork: Yeah, that story is everywhere. With more international exposure, how has that affected the band?

A: That's a really interesting question for us, now that I stop and think about it. Before, we were conscious about trying to grow and push forward, and like be part of the forefront of rock, Japanese rock. As a band, we were conscious of our popularity even while we were on the tour for Pink, and now that we are more popular internationally, we have actually been re-thinking what it means to be Japanese. It just makes us think more about who we are. Thinking about our cultural identity, I wasn't really wholly fixated on the fact that I was Japanese, but now, I am starting to come to terms with it and accepting being Japanese; sometimes I gripe about it. That's why I look back on the music that was popular when we were growing up, and it's an interesting look in the mirror. We think about who we are now and how our identities developed, but what remains true is that the way we grew up could only have happened in Japan and now, we're just coming to terms with that.

Pitchfork: How do you feel about being more popular abroad than on your home turf?

A: Well, it makes us happy that we are well received, of course. And that even plays into the dynamics of our live shows. Before it was us who tried to pressure the crowd for a response or to get people to come to our shows but now, people just come and are excited to see us on stage. Being more well known, the crowds are just that much more excited but that means they have a whole set of expectations and it's become like a cycle, one of excitement.

Pitchfork: Are you now where you expected you'd be a few years ago?

A: We've tried not to come up with ideals, but we've reached where we've wanted to be-- especially from what we wanted to accomplish in the past two years with Pink and Rainbow. Now, we're just waiting. When Pink was released two years ago, we just couldn't wait and just wanted to get out there, but now we feel we're in an environment where we can wait. That's something we feel differently about compared to a few years ago.

Pitchfork: With all that touring you've spent plenty of time abroad, is Tokyo still important for the band?

A: It's really important, yeah, definitely, Tokyo is one of the craziest cities in the world, I mean, there are some neighborhoods where crazy, fucked-up things happen, stuff you wouldn't normally think about.

Pitchfork: Like what?

A: It's not necessarily dangerous stuff like in other cities, but more deranged stuff here likefujoshi, you know that?

Pitchfork: No, what's that?

A: [laughs] I think it translates as, "rotten girls." Let me see if I can explain...these girls take a regular comic book and subvert the storyline or plot into something homosexual. They pick out two male characters and rewrite their lines and even change their order of appearance in the story to make the male characters in the story fall in love with each other.

Pitchfork: And this is a hobby of some Japanese youth?

A: Yeah, girls. They trade books with their friends or actually publish them DIY or via some indie press. It's kind of big, I'll go so far to say it's influential on the Japanese economy.

Pitchfork: [laughs] What?

A: Yeah, like you know Masked Rider? It's like Power Rangers out here. The new version has all the male characters positioned in such a way just so it would appeal to these kinds of girls so they could subvert and, well, buy it, and further get it out there.

It's like all these Visual Kei bands are a branch off of that. The band members dress themselves up to the extreme so [these] girls will like them, so they wear lots of make up or go for an allusive feminine image. It's so twisted, you have to see it for yourself. Because in Japan, compared to foreign countries [where] gays and lesbians can exist openly and freely, here it's so suppressed and so taboo that it comes out in the most twisted ways, and that's part of why it's so crazy living here. Now, it's like all these people are wasting their time day dreaming about twisted subversive things and it's really changing modern Japanese society. I'm telling you, man [laughs].

Pitchfork: I had no idea...

A: Well, there is a lot of weird reverse phenomena like that in Japan. Like, these comics had a storyline to which the characters obviously adhered, but now that they have been rewritten, it's like the characters are their own individuals and the original storyline doesn't even matter anymore. Even their order of appearance is mixed. And as for as those Visual Kei bands go, the image of the band members comes first and the music is second, so everything is kind of reversed, and that actually affects us as a band, we're surrounded by that kind of shit. Of course, you choose what you want to see, but I wonder where Boris fits into that.

Pitchfork: Well in terms of the band, how does Boris fit in with Tokyo?

A: I don't think anyone even knows us out here, it's weird. Sometimes we get interviews from magazines but it comes and goes and we never even see the interviews printed, it's like a coming and going and we never see any of it.

Pitchfork: I often hear people refer to you guys as heavy metal...

A:[laughs] Yeah, sometimes people think we're this heavy metal band. And, it makes us sound tough and all but at the same time in Japan, if anyone says you are heavy metal, it means you are an 80s hair band, and well...we're not. Our manager thinks we're an outcast in the Japanese music scene because the way we approach making music is so different, and so here we are outcasts but abroad, I guess it sounds more natural to listeners so.

Pitchfork: Considering how much more you tour abroad, I can see that.

A: Yeah, it's also a bit tougher to find supporters like media and venues even though we're an established band so in that sense, it's easier to play abroad. But, if I talk that way, it sounds like Tokyo isn't that great or important to us, but it totally is [laughs]. I think the stress I get from all these problems and bizarre things I come across feed into the motivation to create new music. It's really good for us but then again sometimes I want to flip out and I want to destroy Japan, but...it's home [laughs].